Loosing Sarafina
by ShadowObsession
Summary: The Pride gathers nervously around their fallen sister, but their grief is nothing compared to the King's.


Scar went from cunning and brilliant to very much uncaring, which left me to wonder: why did Scar want the Pride if he didn't want the responsibility. He went through all of that – killing his own brother – so he could lie on his back and eat whatever he wanted? _Why?_ He's a lion, it's not like Mufasa made him hunt for the Pride. I assume he could do all of this before, so why did he want the Pride? My answer? Something very important to him changed.

**Warnings:** Character death

**POV:** Scar

**Anything recognizable: **belongs to Disney.

~oOo~

The morning dawns cold and bleak.

Frost crunches under paws as the lioness shift nervously. The last time such a thing happened, I was a cub in my mother's nest. Now the savannah seems to mourn with me as I press my muzzle into the fur of the lioness who lies limply beside me.

I am dimly aware of the others. My Pride is thirteen lioness strong – twelve – I remind myself bitterly. I know each and every lioness as if they were my own littermate – for whatever it's worth from someone such as I.

Is this my punishment? To loose the one thing I held dear? To loose the only lioness I ever loved? I bury my muzzle deeper into Sarafina's fur, hoping desperately that she'll shift slightly, like she has so many nights, lifting her head to look at me for one last time.

She doesn't. I knew she wouldn't. I knew from the way her head twisted as if no longer held to her body when I carried her back to Pride Rock. I want to roar my helplessness to the Pridelands, but I can't find the energy to stand.

At the edges of my consciousness, I hear a voice. I don't need to look up to know who it is. I know what I'd see if I pried my eyes away from my lovely mate, lifeless on the frost-covered rock. His fur is the color of the frost itself, his mane is the slightest tint of brown, but despite looking nothing else like her, his eyes are my mother's. Themba is my mother's only sibling. The last link I have to her. His graying muzzle warns me I will not even have that much longer, but if I have already angered the Ancient Kings, they cannot hold just a few more minutes against me. Just a few more. I cannot let her go. Not yet.

The Pride gathers around me, but none speak. They don't have to for me to know exactly where each member is. I cannot draw comfort from them, no matter how I try. She's dead. She's dead and I'm damned.

I wonder if my brother can see me now. Does he know I comforted Sarabi? That my heart hurt despite his death being entirely my fault? When I watch the skys at night, does he curse me from his place there? What must Sarafina think of me now?

I should have told her. Oh, Sarafina. I should have told you. Forgive me, my love. Forgive me. Her body is cold as I lift my head, the entire Pride waiting to hear what I have to say. I know what they think. I have betrayed the tradition of my ancestors, betrayed Sarafina, by refusing to allow her to be buried by the moon's highest point.

On the edge of my vision, I can see them waiting. Eerie calm radiates from Sarabi, and for the first time, I admit to myself that Mufasa's decision to make her his Queen was wise. Her sisters flank her. Patient, loyal Naanda, with my cub at her side. I realize belatedly that Sarafina was Tama's mentor. She is too young to be allowed to hunt on her own, but my heart breaks a little more at the thought of naming a replacement for my Angel. Diku, sweet, bright Diku, bracing my Kula to keep her on her paws. I realize why when I see Sabini, Sarafina's sister. Kula's mentor is sobbing violently, only her nephew, Tojo keeping her on her paws. Dwala is curled on the ground, and a snip of rage fights through my grief as I realize that the youngest of Sarabi's littermates is asleep. Asleep, when my Sarafina will never again wake.

I almost lower my head again and try to pretend they don't exist, but then I see her. Utamu, my sister, stands steady among the lionesses. Nala and Mheetu are pressed together against her paws, crying like cubs. Chumvi and Zira watch in silence, they were close to Sarafina, she nursed them when their own mothers could not. Themba sits next to me, but it is not he who presses against my pelt in comfort.

My mother's cousin Hasidi looks almost as upset as I feel, and she buries her muzzle in my mane as I sit up. Sarabi and her sister quickly move to gather Sarafina, Utamu breaking tradition further by guiding them out of the camp. It helps, somewhat, knowing that I will know where my mate lies.

I stand, Hasidi having to steady me as I sway slightly. I pull away from her and walk calmly off the Great Rock. It's fake. I can barely see straight, but by the time my feet hit the grass, I'm in a dead run. I have to leave. I have to get away from there. From their eyes, from their thoughts.

Oh, Sarafina. My beautiful, precious Sarafina. Did I ever tell you I loved you?


End file.
